


A Question of Luck

by jujitsuelf



Category: The Losers (2010), The Losers - All Media Types
Genre: Las Vegas, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/pseuds/jujitsuelf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for - The Losers - Jake+any - my lucky rocketship underpants</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Question of Luck

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer – All publicly recognizable characters, settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended  
> ***  
> Prompt left by nagasvoice at fic_promptly  
> ***  
> Thank you to saral_hylor and peaceful_sands for the read-throughs  
> ***

“Oh, yeah, this is gonna be fantastic.”

Jensen was practically skipping down the Strip. Pooch covered his eyes and groaned.

Jensen frowned.“What? Pooch-man, what ails you, dude? Was it the prawns? I said they smelled funky! You’re not gonna throw up on the roulette table, are you? If you must hurl, go do it on Roque’s blackjack cards, preferably when he has a good hand, okay? I’m lucky tonight, I can feel it. By this time tomorrow I’ll be one rich motherfucker, just wait and see.”

Pooch looked at him and once again wondered how he’d made it through Basic training, much less into Spec Ops. Then he remembered watching Jensen ruthlessly fight his way through five Columbian drug runners in order to reach a wounded Clay, then back out again, practically dragging Clay behind him. Looks really were deceiving.

But right at that moment, Jensen looked like every other tourist out for a good time in Vegas. He was even wearing his most obnoxious Hawaiian shirt in honour of the occasion.

“Why the thoughtful face, Poochy?” Jensen enquired.

“Call me that again and you won’t make it to the roulette table,” Pooch replied, unwilling to reveal he’d been mentally admiring Jensen’s past exploits and despairing of his dress sense.

Jensen grinned the bright smile which made people stop and stare at him. “I think it’s a cute name. Makes you sound like a Chihuahua.”

Pooch glared.

“They are noble creatures,” Jensen said emphatically. “Vicious attack dogs, I know for a fact. Had one attached to my ankle once, they have tiny jaws but their teeth are like needles.”

“If you tell that story to anyone else, make it a Doberman, okay?” Pooch said. “You might retain a tiny shred of credibility.”

“I don’t need credibility, man,” Jensen grinned, skipping again. “I’m in Vegas and I’m lucky, I need nothing more!”

“Since when are you lucky?” Pooch asked, trying to recall Jensen ever having won anything in all the time they’d known each other.

Jensen tapped his nose conspiratorially. “I have a strategy tonight. I can’t lose.” He leaned in close and muttered into Pooch’s ear. “I’m wearing my lucky rocketship underpants.”

Pooch raised both eyebrows. “You don’t have lucky rocketship underpants.”

“Sure I do.” Jensen led the way into the nearest casino and reached for his wallet.

“Okay, I give, why are they lucky?” Pooch knew he’d probably regret asking, but hey, he was curious.

“They’re what I was wearing when I slept with Cougs for the first time. If that doesn’t make them my lucky underpants, I don’t know what does.”

Pooch rubbed his nose and smiled. He should probably berate Jensen for saying such things in public, but DADT had been repealed and they weren’t in uniform and frankly, the look of gleeful happiness on Jake’s face was one which didn’t appear too often, it would be a shame to make it vanish.

“Okay,” he said instead, reaching for his own money. “Good enough for me, let’s go get rich.”

“That’s my Poochy,” Jensen beamed.

****

Pooch woke with a pounding headache and a sinking realisation that he’d lost every cent he had the previous night. Jolene was going to kill him.

It took him a while to get moving but when he did, he staggered down the hotel hallway to knock on Jensen and Cougar’s door, curious as to whether the lucky underpants had lived up to their name.

Nobody answered his knock but he could hear faint breathy moans coming from inside the room, along with a drawn out groan which sounded a lot like ‘Cooooouuuuugar’. He closed his eyes and winced. Whether Jensen had won any money or not last night, he’d certainly gotten lucky this morning.

Leaving them to it, Pooch went to find some much needed carbohydrates for breakfast. Maybe next time they came to Vegas, he’d wear the socks he’d worn on his first date with Jolene. Perhaps that might help him win back some of what he’d lost the previous night.

Jensen and Cougar joined him while he was munching his way through pancakes and scrambled eggs. They both looked exhausted but wore identical smirks.

With a flourish, Jensen waved a wad of bills around before stuffing them back into his wallet.

“See, Poochy?” he stole a pancake from Pooch’s plate and smiled guilelessly. “Told you the underpants would work.”

Pooch grinned and handed a pancake to Cougar, who nodded his thanks. Yeah, maybe for once, Jensen really was a lucky son of a bitch, in more ways than one.


End file.
